His After-Hours Mistress. Trish Wylie

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       CHAPTER TWO

      LUCINDA studied her wardrobe, wondering what to wear for her evening out with Zane Alexander. The red slinky number, or perhaps something more decorous? She didn’t want him getting the wrong impression. How about the amber suit? Or even the lime-green dress, which everyone else hated but she loved? It was certainly demure.

      She had thought long and hard about accepting Zane’s dinner invitation but ultimately decided to put her personal issues about him to one side. This project was too good an opportunity to miss. Now, though, as she stepped into an elegant black dress, she wondered whether she was doing the right thing.

      A job in St Lucia! It sounded too good to be true. Except that she would be out there with Zane, a man she didn’t particularly like. But whom she found devastatingly attractive! It was an admission she hated making—but it happened to be true. There really was something about him that could not be ignored.

      Would he stay while she developed thoughts and ideas? Would he want to talk them over with her as she went along? Or would he simply show her around and then wait to hear what suggestions she came up with?

      He was a very busy man, of that she was well aware. When she had looked after his two-year-old son, Zane had spent very little time at home. In fact Tim had rarely seen him. Zane was not a good father. On the other hand, perhaps because of Tim, he would not stay on the island the whole time she was there—unless, of course, he had business interests in St Lucia? It could well be the case.

      They certainly had a lot to discuss.

      And time was running out. Zane was picking her up at seven-thirty; he would expect her to be ready. She finished her make-up and ran a final brush through her hair. It was long and silky, almost to her waist, and her pride and joy. At the last minute, though, she decided to sweep it up. She didn’t want Zane Alexander thinking she looked anything less than professional.

      She watched for him to arrive and was out of the door almost before he had stopped his car. Lucinda lived with her mother and stepfather in a large house where she had her own suite of offices. It didn’t really suit her and her bank balance was such these days that she was almost ready to buy a place of her own. In fact she’d been looking at property only the other day.

      ‘A lady who’s prompt,’ commented Zane with a dry smile, jumping out to open the door for her. ‘I like that. And may I say how elegant you look.’

      Lucinda inclined her head in thanks. Zane looked pretty good himself in an oatmeal linen jacket and crisp dark trousers, and as he slid into the sleek silver Mercedes beside her the faint smell of his cologne wafted beneath her nostrils. It was masculine and woody and reminded her of nights spent on an exotic island paradise.

      She suddenly realised where her mind was going and checked it. How would she know what it felt like? Was she thinking about the job that lay ahead? Was it wishful thinking? Never! Not with Zane Alexander. Not in a million years.

      Besides, wasn’t he married? Not that there’d been a wife around. Maybe they were divorced. Maybe there wasn’t a Mrs Alexander any longer. Maybe she’d dumped the child on him on that occasion and, Zane being Zane, he hadn’t wanted to give up his precious time.

      ‘You must be doing rather well for yourself, judging by where you live,’ commented Zane as he pulled away from the house.

      ‘It’s not mine,’ she answered quickly. ‘It belongs to my stepfather. I’m moving out shortly.’

      ‘You’re not happy there?’ he asked intuitively.

      Perhaps her tone had given too much away. But she didn’t get on well with David Goldberg. He had once told her that she hadn’t the imagination of a sparrow and would never enter the world of business. How she had loved proving him wrong. Her own father had died when she was fifteen and her mother had remarried far too quickly in Lucinda’s opinion. They’d gone from being very poor to very rich in a short space of time; not that she had accepted any help from her stepfather when setting up her design company.

      ‘I feel it’s time I have a place of my own,’ she answered quietly.

      ‘Of course.’

      She had expected him to probe, to make some disparaging remark about her still living at home, but he didn’t.

      ‘How old are you?’ he asked instead.

      ‘Twenty-eight,’ she answered.

      ‘And running your own successful business. Congratulations.’

      His compliment pleased her.

      ‘What СКАЧАТЬ